Friendly Conversation
by Seralis
Summary: A series of conversations inspired by Season 2 episodes.
1. Titan on the Tracks

**Author's Note:** Another random premiere oneshot. Mostly just reflections on the new character dynamics, through conversation. So yeah, random.

**Friendly Conversation**

Angela had been watching her best friend try to voice whatever she'd been thinking for half an hour already. Every time Brennan gave her that look, opened her mouth to speak, then shut it abruptly, focusing on the remains between them, she wanted to laugh.

"C'mon, sweetie. Just spit it out."

"It would be highly unsanitary, not to mention disrespectful, for me to spit anything out while working with human remains, Angela. Besides, there isn't anything in my mouth."

"It's an expression," Angela explained patiently. "What I meant was that I know there's something you want to say."

Brennan blew her cheeks out lightly, stripping off the latex gloves and leaving the body for Zach to finish examining. She said nothing until they reached Angela's office.

Angela watched as she struggled to say the words, wondering what she could possibly find so difficult to voice.

"Do you like her better than me?" the words exploded from her, surprising them both with the worry in her tone.

"Who? Cam?"

Brennan nodded, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh, sweetie, of course I like you better than her. You're my best friend, Bren." Angela took her friend's arm, trying to suppress a smile. "Why would you think that?"

"Everyone likes her," Brennan shrugged, resting on the edge of the sofa lining the right wall. "You all like her…better than me. Everybody talks to her, and she gives you guys these cute little nicknames. And she-she notices these things about you, things _I_ should have noticed. I've been here for years! But I can't-I can't-"

Angela stared in shock. Was this…insecurity? From Brennan? "I'm not saying that it's okay that you don't notice things about us, but we understand why you don't. You're a focused person, and that focus has always been on your work. All of us understand that. It's just that it would be nice if you started noticing things about people who aren't dead."

"Like Cam."

"Kind of. Look Bren," Angela covered her friend's hand with her own. "When it comes down to it, we're on your side."

"I don't want there to be sides," Brennan said slowly.

"Cam is intelligent, and competent. I might not agree with her policies or stratagems to enforce them, but…she deserves respect. I just don't like the way –" she stopped herself abruptly.

"Hey, it's perfectly normal to be uncomfortable with someone new, especially when they're your boss. But that's not it, is it?" Angela saw the question in her friend, still unasked.

"No, that's it," Brennan sighed, her voice taking on the quality of one trying to change the subject. And then… "Do you think Booth likes her better than me?"

Angela was proud. Not just of her confession about her uncertainties when it came to Cam professionally, but of her desire to do better, and now, her fledgling desire to care about people.

"What makes you think that?" she asked carefully, recognizing that this was delicate territory indeed.

"I don't know. You said they were sleeping together, and he keeps…I don't know. You know what, Ange? Never mind." She made a move to go.

_Oh, no you don't_. Angela grabbed her, shoving her back onto the sofa. "Tell me what you're thinking, Bren."

She struggled to collect her swirling thoughts. "It's just that lately, Booth's been acting weirdly. He made some confusing comment about a princess, and then when I said that the part of him with the gambling problem must like the idea of risking it with Turco, he told me that's why I didn't get Cam's job…"

"Oh, sweetie, you didn't!"

Brennan looked at her quizzically. "Didn't what?"

"Mention his gambling problem," Angela looked crestfallen.

"I believe I just told you that I did. Is that bad?"

Angela closed her eyes for a second, wondering how to deal with this. "Yeah, that was bad, Brennan. It's a sensitive topic for him. People don't like sensitive things getting poked."

"But it made sense!" she protested. "Booth had a gambling problem. That would suggest that part of him enjoyed the risk of the game. Therefore, with Turco, it follows that –"

"Temperance," Angela broke in, "Bringing up Booth's gambling is like bringing up the fact that he's killed people. It's like bringing up your parents, or the foster system for you. It hurts."

"I didn't mean to –"

"I know you didn't. But you, you have to _try_ to think about those kind of things before you say them. Not everyone is as…invulnerable as they seem, okay? Sometimes the truth hurts."

Brennan nodded, and Angela knew she was trying to understand, the woman who believed the harsh truth was better than a gentle lie. Angela smiled, "As for Booth. I don't know if he likes Cam better. Does it really matter?"

In her friend's silence, she saw that it did, even if she would never admit it. "Don't worry about what Cam is, or what you aren't, sweetie. You're you, silly as that sounds, and you're trying to be a better you. I can see that, even if you can't."

Brennan laughed, "I don't think I understand."

"And right now, you don't have to," Angela said. "You just keep trying, and one day you'll be someone he can love, someone who can love him back."

"Love who? What?" Any shred of comprehension she might have held onto throughout their conversation was officially lost.

"Never mind, sweetie," Angela dismissed with a smile. The people around here never could handle her exceptional perceptive abilities.

"Dr. Brennan?" Zach poked his head into the office.

"Yes, Zach?"

"I've completed an initial examination of the remains, and I've discovered a rather curious…" Angela tuned him out, watching as her best friend stood quickly, following her assistant out, again donning the mask of Dr. Brennan, hardened forensic anthropologist. _The drawbridge rises..._

_And the princess awaits within._


	2. The Blonde in the Game

**Author's Note:** After this week's episode, how could I not? Loved it. Simply loved it. And really, really, want to hug her. Poor dear.

On the note of how this fic is working: I'm not really sure. As you can see, I jumped from the season premiere to the fourth episode. That isn't because the other two weren't good; they were. It just that not all of them inspire a 'conversation' as well as these two have. So in short, not all episodes will be covered, and since I don't know if future episodes will have the same effect (yeah, right!), the status of this fic will remain complete, although updates may be made.

Enjoy.

**Chapter Two - The Blonde in the Game**

"I killed someone today." The words came out a whisper, but the cold truth in them still stunned her.

She was lying on her side, clutching the edge of the sheets to her in the darkness, the heavy blanket her protection from the retribution some part of her feared was coming.

"It was so quick. Just one shot, one second…I had to do it. I had to shoot him. He would've-he would've killed Booth."

Closing her eyes, she could still see it all so clearly. The iron swinging through the air, the sound of the impact, the sound of him in pain. And then the shot. There had been no hesitation, no thought. Just the knowledge that he had to be stopped and she had the means to do so.

Her grip on the sheets tightened. It was harder then she thought it would be. Not that she'd ever thought taking another person's life would be easy, but…

"He was a bad man. A murderer. He killed those girls, so why do I-why do I feel so horrible about it?"

She had no answer. Her mind knew what she had done was right, that she had done what was necessary to protect Booth, herself, Helen, and all the other victims he could have claimed had he lived. But her heart, all it knew was that she had killed. Taken another life into her hands, and destroyed it.

"Am I-am I a bad person?"

This time, she was glad there was no answer. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted one. It had seemed so simple before. He was a murderer, and therefore, she was justified in shooting him, especially when he was beating her partner with a tire iron.

But it wasn't like hunting an animal. He had a family; a mother who loved him. A dog. A face. Oh god, she could see his face, eyes slightly open, but blank. Devoid of life. She had done that.

"What will I tell Russ?"

She knew immediately that she wouldn't tell him anything. He didn't need to know, and she didn't want him to know his little sister was a murderer.

"I'm not a murderer," she insisted softly, protesting the silent darkness. "I'm not. I'm-I'm a good person."

And yet she could not quite convince herself. Not this time.

"Is this how Booth feels?"

If it was, she couldn't imagine how much worse it would be for him. He had killed dozens of people, and lived, survived. But there had been a cost. He said there was a cost. Only she didn't know what that would be.

The cold gaze of Howard Epps came to mind, and she shivered involuntarily. Is this what he had wanted? To play her, play _them_, to make her uncertain? To make her doubt herself? Or was it about the kill?

He had been pleased to find that she had been the one to kill Lappin; there was no doubt about that. Had asked her about the pleasure, about the rush that came with taking a life.

She felt sick. Plagued by an unknown, unnamed disease, that stemmed from the moment she pulled the trigger.

Angela had been sympathetic, Jack uncharacteristically quiet, and Zach looked a little bit more like the grad student she'd first met: slightly terrified. And Cam…she didn't even want to go there. Not tonight.

None of them would understand, and for that, she was glad. They should never have to know what it was like. She wished she didn't know, wished she could go back to the protected world of the lab. But there was no turning back. There was only forward, she told herself firmly, yet she teetered on the precipice.

There were questions she didn't want to ask, and answers she was afraid to hear.

The phone was in her hands, her fingers dialling the number before she could stop herself. Glancing at her nightstand, she smiled slightly.

"You're a great listener, Jasper, but not much of a conversationalist."

One ring. Two. Three.

She nearly sighed with relief when he picked up. Somehow, him being there, hearing his voice, convinced her more deeply than any argument she could produced that everything would be okay.

Taking her first breath in what seemed a lifetime, she smiled as if he could see her. "Booth, it's Brennan."

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Reviews feed my soul. 


	3. The Truth in the Lye

**Author's Note:** Okay, I confess. Unlike the first two chapters, this isn't really a conversation that I felt needed to be had. It was more...my no so inner Semperance shipper that way dying just a little bit after this week's episode. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't that it wasn't Brennan with Booth. Oh, no. It was more his starting the episode with one woman, and ending with another. Well. Anyway, this is a little random, and definitely not as canon-following as the first two chapters, but hey...maybe future chapters will be better. And frankly, it's Thursday night, three in the morning, while running on maybe thirty-ish hours of sleep this week...don't ask me why I'm awake, let alone writing when I really should be studying. Oh, death. Until then...enjoy.

**Chapter Three - The Truth in the Lye**

"Everything okay with you and Rebecca?" Brennan asked conversationally.

"Yeah, yeah, we're good." Booth glanced away from the road long enough to see that she was looking out the window, away from him, and he wondered if she'd finally realized how easily he could read the minute subtleties of her facial expressions. "She, uh, she said she talked to you."

"Yeah," she nodded, and he knew she was pursing her lips thoughtfully. Funny how easy it was to imagine her reaction. "I liked her."

Then again, just when he thought he knew her, she would go and say something like that and throw him off-balance all over again.

"Really?"

"Why does that surprise you?" she asked. "I _can_ build interpersonal relations, you know."

"I know, but you and Rebecca…you've very different people."

She shrugged. "I understand her perspective on the subject of marriage. At least, I understand her reticence in marrying you."

Her calm, even tone made it clear that she didn't mean to hurt him, but that didn't negate the slight sting in her words. "I'm going to pretend you weren't just completely insensitive again."

"I'm just saying, she's a very independent woman. I respect that. Besides," she added defensively, "I thought you liked independent women. Your history of romantic relationships certainly indicates that tendency."

"_What?"_

"Well," she said reasonably, "Rebecca is obviously a very self-sufficient woman. I didn't know Tessa very well, but her profession and demeanour would suggest a certain degree of independency. And Cam-"

"Whoa," he cut her off, his hand coming off the steering wheel as he gestured sharply. "Where did Cam come from?"

_And_, he added silently, _where was she getting this sudden insight into him from?_

God, did she know about him and Cam? And why was his heart racing at the thought that she did? Clammy hands, slight sweating…all subtle physiological indicators of fear.

He wasn't sure why, but the thought of Brennan knowing about him and Cam filled him with dread. He just…he wasn't ready for her to know just yet. Not yet…

Her knowing would change the way they were right now, and he wasn't sure he could handle that on top of everything else. And then he realized she was talking.

"She's from New York. I thought you knew that."

Okay, so maybe she _didn't_ know.

"What I meant was," he continued as calmly as he could, "how does Cam fit into this?"

"The two of you had a relationship in the past, didn't you?" she asked. "I'm just pointing out that she fits your trend of dating independent women."

"How does someone even notice something like that?" he wondered out loud.

"I'm an excellent observer," she explained, as confident and assured as ever when it came to her abilities. "Besides, I thought noticing things about your colleagues was good. Building interpersonal relationships in the workplace and all that. Like birthdays."

"_What?"_

"Angela said that I should pay more attention to irrelevant details. Like birthdays. Hers is June 9th."

A glance to his right revealed a proudly smiling Brennan. When she smiled like that, all hope and social awkwardness, he had the completely irrational urge to hug her.

"When's yours?"

"When's my what?" he asked, caught off-guard, and distracted by both the task of driving and the maelstrom of confusion she always seemed to be able to incite in him.

"Your birthday. So I can remember it so my computer doesn't have to."

He shot her a weird look before answering. "May 16th."

Her face went all squinty and he knew she wouldn't forget it. Pulling into the closet unmarked parking spot, Booth shifted gears, and turned off the ignition. "And just for the record, Bones, as interesting as your little insights into my tastes has been…let's not do that again."

Getting out, he let the door shut on her confused expression, striding off towards the Jeffersonian. A slam and quick footsteps told him she was following.

"What did I do?" she asked concernedly, catching up with him. "All I said was that you exhibit a tendency towards independent women when it comes to relationships. Anthropologically speaking, it's interesting that–"

Whatever was so interesting to her was cut off by the hand he slapped against her mouth, stopping her in her tracks, right in front of the lab's main platform, and stilling her words in her now closed mouth.

His gaze was firm, and silently asked – no, commanded – her to stop talking about it. "I know what I like, Bones. You don't have to tell me. And you _don't_ have to rationalize it for me."

Her eyes met his, and there was that look. The one they both recognized, were both familiar with, the one that left them silent, yet with a deafening buzzing in their ears. The one where they were afraid of what might happen if their self-control slipped just a little bit.

The one that could be intense enough to stop a heartbeat, that could be so gentle it felt like a warm blanket on a cold night. The one they shared in the fieriest of arguments, and in the most intimate moments of friendship. Forever changing, mutating, from that one look that expressed things neither could name.

"Bones-"

"Booth, you're back." Cam stepped into the three foot gap between them, breaking the bridge their shared gaze had forged. He saw Brennan look away before he turned his attention to the smiling pathologist that was looking at him expectantly with that half-smile.

Brennan watched, silently, frozen in inertia by the look, by the sudden, unexpected intrusion. No, not intrusion. A surprise. It was a surprise. She hadn't expected Dr. Saroyan to still be at the lab.

She let herself stand there, unsure of what exactly she was expecting, her eyes noting the way Cam's hand went out to touch his arm. Something inside of her twitched, and she remembered the stack of paperwork she still had to do to close their latest case.

Her office. She was comfortable there. There…there, everything made sense.

By the time he looked for her, she was gone.

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